


Rainstorms and Coffee

by Fangirl383



Series: Drarry Ficlet [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coffee Shop, M/M, fear of lightning, im sorry I don't know what to put, longer than a drabble?, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5954020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl383/pseuds/Fangirl383
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two of my drabble series! It's longer than just a drabble. But the basic idea is that Harry gets trapped in Draco’s cafe during a rainstorm. This is a drabble requested by @forkbeds on tumblr!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rainstorms and Coffee

Rainstorms were something Harry had always been afraid of. Ever since he was trapped in the Dursleys as an adolescent. They had terrified him, being trapped inside of that small broom closet never helped the situation either. He could usually only see the lightning from the cracks in the door, and the spaces between the stairs. The thunder had made the rickety floorboards creak with each crash. It had always struck a chord in his nerves, making him go rigid with terror. 

So it was just his luck when he found himself trapped outside during a thunderstorm. The rain crashing down steadily as he rushes down the sidewalk, looking, pleading for whatever God there is out there to give him somewhere to hide, somewhere to go. All of the establishments in the area were closed for the night, all of the lights off in the various buildings. 

And then he sees it, a nearby cafe with all of its lights on, and an open sign still hung on the door. Harry runs towards it, his heart racing as he found himself nearly in tears with terror. He shoves the door open forcefully, only to run straight into a blonde man, who looked to be turning the sign on the door. 

“Please! Please no. Pl-Please don’t close yet it’s.. it’s raining and I live so far and I can’t do it I can’t go back out there I-I-” Harry started to ramble, desperately grabbing at the blonde man’s shirt sleeves so that he won’t push him out into the rain again, not wanting to be forced into the storm. 

The blonde man - Harry couldn’t seem to catch his eye on the tag - simply lets Harry hold onto him, and switches the sign so that it says closed. “Shh, it’s alright.” He coos gently, hugging Harry tightly and slowly leading him inside the cafe, gently sitting down into an over-stuffed couch. “What’s got you in such a mood?” He says in a gentle, soothing voice. 

When he spoke, Harry knew instantly who it was. How could he possibly forget? It was the same person who had tortured him all those years during school, whose entire existence was only created to make Harry miserable. It was Draco Malfoy

Harry couldn’t feel anymore relieved if he tried. 

Sure, Malfoy wasn’t his first choice in someone to hold when he was terrified, but he was here. He was real. Most of all, he was someone familiar. Someone Harry knew and had always known like the back of his hand. Or at least he used to, he had no idea that Draco worked in a muggle coffee shop. When had Harry grown away from him? 

He had assumed it was right after the war, after Harry showed up at Draco’s trial and told everyone in Wizengamot that he was innocent of his crimes during the war. Told of how Narcissa Malfoy had saved Harry’s life, how Draco hadn’t turned Harry over to Voldemort. Inadvertently saving everyone. 

Harry finally spoke, “I-It’s the thunder an-and the rainstorm..” He says softly, keeping his face pressed into Draco’s chest and clung to him for dear life. “I’ve always hated them and.. and I just can’t be out there I..” He is silenced by a hand coming up and gently stroking between his shoulder blades, a voice shushing him. 

“Easy there Potter, just take it easy.. You can stay here for as long as you need.” When had Draco gotten this nice? The Draco Harry knew would never let Harry sit here, and would probably ridicule him for being afraid of a little rain. 

This was not the Draco Malfoy Harry knew, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Maybe this one would be more civil? “Come on Potter either speak or let go of me, you’re soaking wet.” Or perhaps not. Harry thought with a frown before he pulled back.

But Draco didn’t let go, he continued to hold on to Harry’s arms, keeping him just within distance. He was looking at Harry with a seemingly worried expression, and bit his lower lip in thought. “How about I make you a drink?” He says quietly, standing up and holding around his wrist. He tugs Harry towards the counter, and allows him to stand behind it as he begins to make some sort of latte. Harry was never good with the names of drinks, they all sounded stupid to him. The last time he was in any sort of coffee shop Hermione had ordered a steamed double shot mocha, low fat no foam latte with caramel drizzle and whipped cream. To Harry that always sounded like mush, it was unnecessary to have all of those extra things. He paid for coffee, not all the other additions. 

Whatever Draco was making however smelled amazing. It smelled like a mixture of sweet and salty. When Draco handed him the warm cup, Harry took a small sip of it. It was sweet, but bitter all the same. It had a frothy top, and a cinnamon stick in it. He used the stick to gently stir the drink, and sighed happily when he smells the sweetness waft into the air around him. 

“What is this?” He asks softly, looking up at Draco with a confused expression. 

Draco gives him one of his famous, are you serious right now looks and crossed his arms over his chest. “Its coffee, Potter.” 

“Besides that Malfoy, I’m not an idiot. I know what coffee is. I meant what else is it?” He stares up at Draco expectantly before he lets out a frustrated sigh, “What’s in it?”

The blonde simply smirks at him, “Oh you know. The usual things in coffee. Caffiene, I put some milk, sugar.” Now Draco pauses and bites his lower lip. “Some calming draught too..” The last part was muttered, practically a whisper leaving his lips. 

“And you masked the taste of that with the cinnamon?” He asks with a brow raised, before he gives the other an approving nod. As he sipped his coffee he took his time now to look at Draco, inspecting him. The ex-Slytherin looked the same, but more grown up. The sharp angles of his face and body had smoothed with age. He was much less pointy than he was in school. He looked more relaxed too. Which - Harry thought - made sense considering he didn’t have the war to worry about anymore. 

A voice rings out from the seat beside him, bringing Harry’s mind back to the present. “Why are you on this side of town anyway? According to the Prophet you’re quite aways from home.” 

“I had some shopping to do. I didn’t know it’d get so bad so fast.” He responds, looking at Draco straight on now. Green eyes clashing with silver. “Why are you on the night shift?”

Draco merely smirks, a small puff of laughter escaping his lips as he regards Harry cooly, “This is my shop. I own it. Therefore I am free to take whatever shifts I want.” His smirk only grew as he watched Harry’s jaw drop. 

“This is your cafe? As in.. You are the owner. The boss.” At Draco’s nod he looks around, “But it looks so.. so..” 

“Dashing? Elegant? Professional?”

“Un-Slytherin.” 

The blonde boy deadpans and stares at him in disbelief. “That’s the best you could come up with? Seriously?” 

“Honestly Malfoy! I thought that if you’d own anything. It would all be painted in green and silver. With black accents or something. This is..” He gestures to the cream and tan colors around the cafe. Granted the mahogany floors were sort of expected of Draco’s style, the rest of the cafe - in Harry’s opinion at least - didn’t fit. 

“I don’t live and breathe Slytherin colors Potter I-”

“You used to!” He defended, “Anyway, when did you decide to grow up?” He says, his words coming out in an angry huff. 

They proceeded to argue over anything and everything. Picking small things (like the color of the sky the day before, small scuff marks that were apparently left on the floor by Harry, and various other insignificant things) to fight over. Somewhere along the lines of their squabbling, Harry realized that he had missed all of this fighting. He had actually missed Draco’s fierce look that he got when they were arguing. 

It didn’t matter what it was, Draco always defended his opinion with that same fierceness every time. It was increasingly reassuring. Draco had always been a constant in his life, and that was obviously not going to change any time soon. 

Neither of them knew who had started it, but soon their arguing evolved to pushing and shoving, and that pushing and shoving soon evolved to wrestling on the over-stuffed couch. The wrestling soon was abandoned in favor of Harry tickling Draco. There was obviously something blocking out his right mind because why the hell would he be tickling Malfoy? 

But he didn’t stop, he just kept wiggling his fingers against Draco’s sides, one hand pinning Draco’s hands above his head, and the other tickling at his stomach. Despite the fact that Draco was thrashing and crying out under him, Harry didn’t stop. The blonde beneath him was laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes, and Harry was enjoying every second of it. 

By the time he was slowing down his tickles, Draco’s face was flushed brightly, and he was letting choked laughs out as he gasped for air. Harry was sitting on his stomach, staring down at the giggling blonde. He feels his heart begin to race, and starts to lean down, his eyes closing as he does so. 

Draco looks up at him with wide eyes, his gaze flickering between Harry’s lips and his closed eyes. But soon Harry is nearly kissing him, so he gives in. His own eyes fluttering closed as he presses his lips to Harry’s. They just relax that way for a while. Kissing each other quietly, nothing too urgent. 

But then Harry pulls back and stares down at him, his cheeks flushing a bright red, and his eyes wide. He didn’t know what to say or do, but he didn’t have to. Draco was smiling up at him, and just barely heard him whisper. 

“Thank Merlin for thunderstorms.”


End file.
